Maggie raised her eyebrows and looked at Asher, who had filled the coffee cups and was standing there holding them. He shrugged and said to Laura, “Don’t overthink it, she collects people like pebbles. When she decided to turn this place into a guesthouse, the only person who was surprised was her.” He went to the fridge to get half-and-half.

Laura headed to the shower, feeling awkward. Damn Nick, why did he always have to put his paws all over everything she did? He’d always loved to keep tabs on her, reporting his findings back to her mother because they’d always gotten on better than she and Laura had. Her mother exclusively exerted herself mentally, like the rest of the family, whereas Laura had endless physical energy, and needed to use it. She didn’t want to sit and read for hours, or draw highly detailed plans of imaginary cities, like her older brothers; she wanted to play soccer, or tag, or soccer-with-tag-included. Laura sighed; she’d always felt like the daughter her mother never wanted, and Nick showing up had reminded her what a disappointment she was to them all. She turned on the shower and stepped into it, closing her eyes and waiting for her anger to fade away. Her anger at Nick at least; her anger at herself was going to take a lot longer than that.

•   •   •

Back in the kitchen, Asher put the coffee down in front of his mom and cleared his throat. As Maggie had known him all his life, she was familiar with his nonverbal communication: He was about to tell her something. She looked up at him and put on a pleasantly expectant expression.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she said, to get the ball rolling.

“Mom,” he said, and rubbed his nose.

Crap, it was going to be something she wouldn’t like.

“I wanted to let you know . . .” He paused.

Ah . . . not only something she wouldn’t like, something she would be mad about. She decided to cut the agony and hazard a guess.

“You spoke to Madeleine?”

Asher’s mouth dropped open. “How did you know that?”

Maggie shrugged. “Please tell me you didn’t invite her for dinner.”

Silence.

Maggie threw up her hands. “Why? You were all set to move to Japan together when she was like, basically, sorry, don’t love you, have fun in Tokyo.”

Asher sat back down in his chair. “I do remember, Mom.”

“You’d only learned Japanese in the first place because she wanted to.”

“I know, Mom.” He ran his hand through his hair, as he’d done ever since he’d been her boy, and Maggie reminded herself he wasn’t that child anymore. He was an adult, and if she pushed him away, he might choose not to come back. Like Sarah.

She sighed. “Well, it was a long time ago. People change.”

Asher looked relieved. “You’re not mad at me?”